Drops of Red
by ThisWasMe
Summary: Tonight Sherlock's dream doesn't consist of talking to his skull, no tonight he meets a little girl who will depend on him to save her. But then he finds that Mycroft is also involved, can Sherlock help the little girl and find out what his brother want?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok this is my first fanfic so don't blame me if it sucks :P I know this first chapter is short but i just wanted to get it started :) **

**Please press the magical rewiew button and tell me what you think :D Reviews will make me happy and encourange me to keep writing :D **

**I don't own anything (Unfortunatly)**

I'm flying towards the white light at great speeds, as if I have been transformed into some kind of bird. I reach the patch of light to find that it is a small girl in a red dress; she looks over her shoulder at me with an expression of sheer horror. I now see that she is clutching a small white doll close to her chest, nails digging into the peach dress so hard they are ripping the frilly fabric.

"What's your name?" I inquire trying to figure out what I am doing here. "Why isn't Watson here when I need him?" I mutter to myself quietly, "He's usually good at this sentimental stuff, he's the people person." The Little girl's face just retorts to further horror as I murmur to myself. "Umm, why are you here little girl?" Normally my dreams consist of talking to Bob who, to my surprise, Mrs. Hudson and Watson have a strong disliking to. Even to the extent of removing my skull from the mantle and reducing me to having conversations with Watson, how he can bore me with his ridiculously small intellect, although it is larger than the average humans, at times.

I study the girl trying to figure why she is in my dreams replacing my beloved Bob. That's when I notice it, the smallest blob of red on the little doll. "Can I see your, umm dolly?" I hold out my hand whilst bending to the floor, my long coat dusting the ground slightly. "She's very pretty." Not really, I muse to myself, she's the most hideously made thing I have ever seen, all out of proportion. The little girl grasps the doll closer to her red dress as if the slightest loss of grip and she would vanish into thin air. "Don't worry, I won't hurt her." I cautiously take a step, or should it be a shuffle as I am nearly crawling, towards the girl before she parts her mouth and a cringe worthy shriek passes her lips. "Okay, okay I'll stay right here. Just please be quiet!" I beg as I cradle my ears. The noise mutes but her eyes stare at me, obviously still feeling the urge to scream. "Thank you," I quietly articulate whilst rocking back onto my haunches. "So what's your name?" I question again, hoping this time for an answer.

"Emilie." She murmured barley loud enough for the human ear but plenty loud enough for me. "Emilie Sylvia" Her accent gave the impression of a home in Kensington but the tiny rips in her clothes showed signs that she had recently moved, moved to a rather 'dodgy' area as Watson would like to put it, perhaps hackney.

"And what is a little girl like you doing here?" I questioned sensing my time was running out, and quick.

"That you will have to find out Sherlock." Her mask of fear turned to a smirk as her voice deepened into one that mimicked Mycroft's and then she vanished completely.

"Damn, I hate it when that happens." I wondered how I could joke at a time like this. I had some thinking to do, and if Mycroft was involved I needed to do my thinking quick.

The white light began to fade, indicating that I was about to wake up and when I did, I needed to find out who this girl is and what she has to do with Mycroft and why.


	2. Chapter 2

"I have a date with Sarah tonight." John informed me over the table, coffee in hand, elbows resting on the table.

"I've never been on a date." I stated, gazing into my mug. Coffee, black, two sugars. "You can sort me out with a date, can't you John?" He looked up at me, dazed. His lips parted slightly to form a plump, round O.

"Um," John regained his composure slowly. "I mean, sure, finding a girl to go out on a date with a psychotic detective..." I cut him off before he could make another mistake; he had already made three in one sentence alone, god knows how many more he could make in the rest of it.

"One, I never said it had to be a girl. Two, I'm not just a detective," Ah, Watson. Always forgetting the little things. I grinned to myself, silently laughing at his lack of memory. "I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world too." John gave me a look to say 'they're the same bloody thing!' I shook my head silently at him. "And three, sociopath. Not psychopath... You may continue."

"Ok then, sociopathic consulting detective," He always over-exaggerates, pressing the words 'sociopath' and 'consulting,' so juvenile. "who talks to a skull called Bob."

"Bob is very good company!" I protested, looking to the, now vacant, spot on the mantle. "He has more intelligence than you." I complained quietly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Watson sat his cup on the table, rising up in his seat.

"Better hearing too." I stated, louder this time. "You were saying?" I retorted, back to the matter at hand - my date.

"As I was saying. It's going to be quite a task to find a girl willing to go out on a date with you."

"Not a girl, John." I stood and tossed the cold liquid down the sink.

"Um, so you want a date with a guy?" He threw a confused glance towards where I was now standing.

"Is that a problem, John?" I inquired whilst resting my chin in my hand; he seemed to look rather flustered at my choice of date preference.

"N...No. Of course not Sherlock." John stumbled over his words, making him seem like a lost puppy. "I mean, maybe we should test your dating skills before we set you up on an actual date."

"Finally, he catches on. Tonight, 7pm." I turned to walk to my desk, pausing in the doorway. "Oh, and do invite my dear brother."

"Mycroft?" Although I was facing the opposite direction, I could imagine his brown eyes bulging slightly in confusion. "Um, Sherlock, you do realise that you don't invite your brother on a date with you, don't you?"

"Of course I do, John. However, it is a chance to question him about last night." I returned to the table; phone in hand, ready to send the text that would question Lestrade about knowledge on the little girl from my dreams. "Plus, it's a perfect opportunity to further annoy Mycroft."

"Hang on, last night?"

I began to replay my dream aloud to John.

After I had finished, and John had asked some uninteresting questions about the girl and how Mycroft was involved, he then wanted to know how I was planning to annoy Mycroft with our 'date'.

"That," I told him after leaving him to consider for a while. "Will have to wait till tonight."

"I have a date with Sarah tonight." John informed me over the table, coffee in hand, elbows resting on the table.

"I've never been on a date." I stated, gazing into my mug. Coffee, black, two sugars. "You can sort me out with a date, can't you John?" He looked up at me, dazed. His lips parted slightly to form a plump, round O.

"Um," John regained his composure slowly. "I mean, sure, finding a girl to go out on a date with a psychotic detective..." I cut him off before he could make another mistake; he had already made three in one sentence alone, god knows how many more he could make in the rest of it.

"One, I never said it had to be a girl. Two, I'm not just a detective," Ah, Watson. Always forgetting the little things. I grinned to myself, silently laughing at his lack of memory. "I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world too." John gave me a look to say 'they're the same bloody thing!' I shook my head silently at him. "And three, sociopath. Not psychopath... You may continue."

"Ok then, sociopathic consulting detective," He always over-exaggerates, pressing the words 'sociopath' and 'consulting,' so juvenile. "who talks to a skull called Bob."

"Bob is very good company!" I protested, looking to the, now vacant, spot on the mantle. "He has more intelligence than you." I complained quietly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Watson sat his cup on the table, rising up in his seat.

"Better hearing too." I stated, louder this time. "You were saying?" I retorted, back to the matter at hand - my date.

"As I was saying. It's going to be quite a task to find a girl willing to go out on a date with you."

"Not a girl, John." I stood and tossed the cold liquid down the sink.

"Um, so you want a date with a guy?" He threw a confused glance towards where I was now standing.

"Is that a problem, John?" I inquired whilst resting my chin in my hand; he seemed to look rather flustered at my choice of date preference.

"N...No. Of course not Sherlock." John stumbled over his words, making him seem like a lost puppy. "I mean, maybe we should test your dating skills before we set you up on an actual date."

"Finally, he catches on. Tonight, 7pm." I turned to walk to my desk, pausing in the doorway. "Oh, and do invite my dear brother."

"Mycroft?" Although I was facing the opposite direction, I could imagine his brown eyes bulging slightly in confusion. "Um, Sherlock, you do realise that you don't invite your brother on a date with you, don't you?"

"Of course I do, John. However, it is a chance to question him about last night." I returned to the table; phone in hand, ready to send the text that would question Lestrade about knowledge on the little girl from my dreams. "Plus, it's a perfect opportunity to further annoy Mycroft."

"Hang on, last night?"

I began to replay my dream aloud to John.

After I had finished, and John had asked some uninteresting questions about the girl and how Mycroft was involved, he then wanted to know how I was planning to annoy Mycroft with our 'date'.

"That," I told him after leaving him to consider for a while. "Will have to wait till tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Heyy there, sorry about the slow updates but i've been loaded with school work, prelims and all :(, anyway sorry about the double pasting on the last chapter :/ Anyway, thanks to all you fantastic people who are reading this part and then also reviewing :D i love you all!**

**And now i just need to give a masive shout out to my new beta (Ladykerosene) check out her stuff its brill :P **

**Anyhow, thats all for now :D hope you all enjoy :D **

The door on the floor below was unlocked, and the hall was once again filled with the sound of keys hitting one another as the old landlady struggled with her shopping bags. "Ah, Mrs Hudson, I see you have our groceries." I peered down the stairs at the frail figure looking up at me,

"Aren't you going to help me Sherlock?" she inquired, raising her bags slightly.

"Only if you help make dinner." I replied, flashing her a cocky grin. She sighed in response to my bribery and was about to agree when John entered the door. Now it was my turn to sigh; he really did pick the worst times to intervene, didn't he.

"Ah, Mrs Hudson. Let me give you a hand there." He smiled politely at her - whilst throwing an accusing glance towards me while her back was turned.

"Oh, John, now you have to focus on making dinner." I twisted to the living room, wrapping my scarf around my neck, barley waiting for John's whiney, yet adorable, question of the previous events that he had missed. As I sat at my desk I heard Mrs Hudson's bored reply and then complaint of how, yet again, she had to tell them that she was our "Landlady dear, not your housekeeper," and how she shouldn't have to get their shopping, or be bribed into making them dinner in order to have some help bringing the heavy bags up the steep stairs.

There was a quick rap on the door, three sharp knocks. "That'll be Mycroft then," I deduced momentarily, whilst John rose from his chair and headed for the stairs.

"How'd you know?" He questioned simply, preparing himself for the wondrous ways in which I would tell him how I knew who it was.

"Three knocks, three sharp knocks at that... and also by the car outside that just dropped them off." I ticked the points off on my fingers whilst Watson stopped in the doorway.

"Okay, explain how these points tell you that it's Mycroft knocking on our door - and how the hell you know that the car that just passed dropped him off?" he had a confused look plastered on his face, waiting for my analysis. "And also, why are you saying them?"

I drew in a breath before spieling my explanations off whilst again ticking them off on my fingers, "Because he's too lazy for more than three knock; they're sharp because he's impatient to get into the building; I know it's his car because of the engine. It's quiet; he doesn't want to draw attention to himself. And I know it's _them _because my dear brother never goes anywhere alone, I sometimes wonder if he's got some kind of mental problem..." I trailed off into thought for a moment before returning to our conversation, "Also, I know it's his car as I saw them getting out of it." I smiled whilst watching Watson's mouth pout, probably annoyed that yet again I was right, as he slowly turned back to the stairs, descended and opened the door just as Mycroft's hand rose to the door again.

"Fuck you, Sherlock." His complaint was barely audible as he led Mycroft and his assistant up the stairs into the living room.

"Again? Why so soon, John? And please, not in front of the guests, that would be rude." I grinned as he shot me the finger and scowled at me, "Wow! I didn't know you knew such obscenities, John!" I gasped dramatically, playing with my new found sarcasm at the expense of dear Watson. "I'll have to try to learn that one!" John sighed, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. I returned to our guests "Ah, Mycroft! What a pleasure! Please, sit." I indicated the sofa whilst heading towards the kitchen, "Back in a minute." I grinned, and left John to deal with Mycroft.

"I see you have a new assistant, Mycroft," John stated blindly, "What's this one called?" Mycroft looked towards the girl holding her Blackberry.

"Ask her yourself." He then fished his own phone out of his pocket and said nothing more on the matter.

"Um..." John sat in an uncomfortable silence as I stirred the pot of sauce, "So you have a name?" he questioned in an attempt at conversation.

"Maybe." She never looked up from her mobile to reply, "Try calling me Charlotte and see if I reply."

Well, that was the end of that conversation. I quickly set the table and then lent on the doorframe, ready to announce dinner.

"Oh god, Sherlock, please tell me you didn't kill the food!" John gave me an exasperated look,

"Actually, the food was already dead when I started cooking it." I grinned at him before returning to my original task. "However, I was going to say that dinner," I bowed incredibly low so that my hand brushed the floor. "Is ready."


End file.
